LOGINThe courthouse was already crowded when Victor and Catherine Vance arrived.Reporters stood behind the barriers outside, cameras raised as the police vehicle pulled to the entrance. The same family that had once walked through private hotel entrances without waiting for anyone now had to walk through a courthouse surrounded by strangers shouting their names.“Victor! Did you steal your daughter's inheritance?”“Catherine! Did you forge your daughter’s signature?”“Did Luna know what you were doing?”Catherine kept her face turned away.Victor walked beside her with his wrists cuffed in front of him. He had spent the entire night telling himself that this would be temporary. There would be lawyers. There would be explanations. There would be some mistake in the records that could be corrected.He had survived difficult situations before.This was another one.At least, that was what he kept telling himself.Inside the courthouse, the noise disappeared behind thick doors.The Vances were
The first thing Luna heard when she crawled out of the wreckage of St. Jude's was the sound of sirens.They were getting closer.She lay on the wet ground behind the ruined building, one hand pressed against the burns on her arm, her lungs fighting for every breath. Smoke rolled across the street in thick black clouds, hiding the building behind her. Somewhere inside those flames were the remains of the people who had been trapped in Ward 4.Mrs. Harlow was one of them.Luna closed her eyes for a second.She could still hear the old woman's voice.*Live... don't let them win.*Luna forced herself up.Her legs almost gave out.She caught herself against the wall of a nearby building and looked down at her clothes. They were covered in ash, blood, and soot. Her hair was burned at the ends. One side of her face was black with smoke, and her hands were blistered from forcing her way through the burning corridor.She looked like someone who had already died.That thought stopped her.Luna
Victor Vance lawyer came and bailed him out as he was still a suspect and there is no solid evidence to hold him.He sat at the edge of the bed in the expensive hotel suite they had been staying for their vacation, staring at his phone while Catherine moved around the room, opening and closing drawers as if she could somehow find an answer among their belongings.The message from the bank was still on his screen. Their account had been placed under review. Their access to several of their accounts had been restricted, and the bank had asked them to provide documents concerning the trust.Victor had spent years making sure nobody asked too many questions. He had always known which papers to sign, which accounts to move money through, and which people to call when something became inconvenient. But this time, something had changed."Call them again," Catherine said."I already did.""Then call someone else."Victor looked up at her. "And say what?"Catherine stopped moving."Tell them w
The Vances had spent the last few months enjoying themselves as if nothing in the world could touch them. Mr. Vance had complained about the price of the hotel suite when they arrived, but by the second evening, he was ordering expensive meals without looking at the menu twice. Mrs. Vance had filled the room with shopping bags and spent most of her mornings by the pool, sunglasses covering her eyes while she talked about where they should travel next.Luna was dead. That was the only thing that mattered to them. Whatever secrets she had discovered before disappearing had gone with her, and Marcus was still recovering in the hospital. As far as the Vances were concerned, the danger had passed. They could finally breathe again.On the morning they returned home, Mr. Vance stopped by the bank before home. He carried a leather folder under one arm and glanced at his watch as he approached the counter. “I need to make a withdrawal,” he said, sliding the document toward the bank officer.T
The police station was quieter than Marcus expected. He sat beside Clara in a small interview room, his hands resting on the table as he stared at the folder between them. The photographs from the package were not inside it. Clara had decided to leave those out for the moment and focus on the evidence they had already collected themselves.The door opened, and a man in his early forties walked in carrying a thin file. He closed the door behind him and looked at Marcus before turning to Clara. His expression was serious, but there was no hostility in it.“Detective Rowan,” Clara said.Rowan gave Marcus a brief nod before taking the seat across from them. “Marcus Reed.”“Yes.”“I know who you are,” Rowan said. “And I know why you're here.”Marcus looked at Clara.She had already explained the situation to Rowan before arranging the meeting. She had known him from a previous case involving her sister, a case he had investigated carefully when other people had already decided what the tru
The ceiling greeted Luna when she opened her eyes, pale morning light spilling through the small window above her bed. The smell of fried eggs and bread drifted up from downstairs, mixed with the faint smoke of the cooking fire. Outside, motorcycles rumbled past and voices called to one another across the road."Selena!" Mrs. Margaret's voice carried up the stairs, followed by the slam of a cupboard. "Breakfast is ready! The villagers are already calling. They need to eat before they start blaming me for keeping them hungry."Luna sat up slowly, the blanket falling away from her shoulders. For a few seconds, the name didn't fit. Then she remembered. Selena. That was who she was now. Luna had been left behind in the city, buried somewhere she couldn't reach.She looked around the small rooftop room. A narrow bed. A wooden table. An old wardrobe with her clothes folded inside. Her bag tucked beneath the bed. No photographs. No framed memories. No phone beside her pillow. The room belong







